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Elle Masters, played by Clare Latham, opens The Worth of Water with a failed performance due to her inability to sing in public. It’s an apt metaphor for her brewing emotional crisis as a woman seeking artistic acceptance and financial independence, wondering if the effort is worthwhile to express herself and pondering what her life will become. There is no better backdrop to ponder this than her mother Ethel, confidently played by Emmy nominee Kim Crow, inviting Elle and her sister Rebecca, a strict conservative from Minnesota, played by Christianna Greiert, to Weeki Wachee mermaid resort in Florida to celebrate her 70th birthday. Rules are established about sexual flirting and socializing but they are quickly broken as Ethel embarrassingly pursues the attention of the resort’s male staff. Rebecca and Elle watch in amusement and vow never to turn out like mom, discussing how they have turned out in love and career. Rebecca’s criticism seems misplaced, however, as she learns her husband is leaving her for a younger woman. Her self-righteousness seemed so hypocritical that a meltdown seemed inevitable. Don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house.

Despite the high caliber of actors I found the presentation lacking, either in the static dialogues that that seemed to go on and on, to failing to capture the color, kitsch, and vitality of Weeki Wachee in the set design. At one point the audience watches cardboard puppets dangling in lit aquariums to represent the celebrating trio, but the stage is ironically empty of any supporting action or imagery, a bizarre juxtaposition. Most disappointing is Elle’s discovery of her voice again, falling short in only singing a single extended note rather than any song or ballad to capture her resurfacing confidence, s bit of a letdown. The payoff in The Worth of Water left more to.be desired than the effort required.

the Worth of Water plays a limited Engagement at HERE Arts Center from October 4;to 20, 2019

Who killed Edgar Allan Poe?The Cooping Theory 1969,an immersive theater experience at the club RPM Underground on West 54th Street, offers an alternative theory.of Poe’s mysterious parting on October 7th in 1849.

After initiation into the Poe Secret Society, audience and cast members alike gather in the bar where the Fab 4 are muraled on a wall, a backdrop for a small performance stage, lending a counter-cultural atmosphere.

After the first martini sinks in, the trippy mod look ofthe cast and saturated mood lighting in the dungeon-esque, gas-station themed club takes on an ethereal60’s revival vibe with acoustic Beatles ballads and spontaneous speeches detailing historically accurate evidence of pre civil war corruption and the discovery of Poe’s body.The stylish activist, and possibly a stewardess in a saturated orange outfit played by Samantha Johnson, easily transitions from prepared speech to answer impromptu queries from onlookers, deftly staying in character.The audience, drinks in hand, swarm around the actors and rove from room to room, gathering new facets of the puzzle, like Poe’s issue with alcohol and the clothes he was found wearing at his death.

Cooping, an apparent Shanghai abduction style of voting fraud, is introduced and adds to the revolutionary anti-government spirit with a group ofgothic spooky characters, like the creepy couple played by Estelle Olivia and Brian Alford resembling a younger hip version of the Munsters, as your guides.The paranormal tone gets into high gear when Makaela Shealy’s seance medium reaches out to communicate with Poe himself, meanwhile other cast members, in trances, begin to spew revelations of their interactions or observances of the doomed poet.

The makeup and costumes are impeccably done, the flow of action across several rooms or simultaneously in different rooms give the curious audience members lots of options to watch and gather clues.The only drawback is there might be one or two critical links of information that were performed elsewhere from the viewer to make the connections to understand the theory.This problem is solved by the highly social atmosphere of the club and by design the production encourages social interaction to piece everything together and wonder if it’s all true.

The Cooping Theory should be popular for groups and couples alike as an antidote to the music club/karaoke scene.The first martini was the best I’ve had in five years, exactly like I wanted, but the second was a complete disappointment not worthy of a carnival boat bash.The wings were okay but never got to try the burgers and fries when the offer was strangely rescinded.

All audience members are required to set up a tab, I assume there is a minimum.

On Monday September 16th I had the pleasure of attending the Stay Mad, Make Art concert presented by The Three Angry Ladies to benefit Immigrant Families Together. The concert was held at the historic West Park Presbyterian Church on West 86th street which doubles as a performance venue. In keeping with their mission to promote diversity and the local artistic community, The Center donated their space for free. In addition to the performances there were also silent auctions for theater tickets, a raffle and an open bar.

The charity the evening was benefitting, Immigrant Families Together, is a network that raises money to reunify and support families separated by the Trump administration’s “zero tolerance” policy. 100% of the money raised is going directly to the affected families. So far, they have reunited 82 families.

The Three Angry Ladies assembled a diverse group of performers for a memorable evening of poetry, opera, rap, musical theater, a little rock, and a drag show. The performances ranged from hilarious to intensely emotional, some with political messages and others just for fun. The evening was hosted by Jiggy Caliente, who was a contestant on season 4 of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Her irreverent humor made the intimate gathering feel like a party with good friends.

The first performer, Nadia Quinn, opened the show by setting the Emma Lazarus poem “The New Colossus” to music. Later in the evening, in a beautiful but likely unintentional echo, Rachel McKinney, who used to work as a guide on the Statue of Liberty tour, took several family histories that she heard as a guide and turned them into poetry.

Lady Dane Figueroa Edidi performed an original poem called “A Black Trans-Woman Speaks to America,” though the word ‘performed’ doesn’t adequately describe the way she threw herself into the piece, trembling with emotion. The entire audience seemed to be holding its breath as she spoke and burst into applause when she finished.

Other highlights were Abbey Immer’s touching song about her mother, Ciana Miceli’s stunning rendition of “Defying Gravity”, and Diana Oh’s wonderful rock set to close out the evening.

In the end, it all coalesced into a wonderful sample of what the New York performing arts community has to offer.

The entirely-in-Spanish production of Ramiro Sandoval’s En el Ojo de la Aguja begins with a sense of unease as discordant notes punctuate the darkness where masked figures roam. They carry pieces of wooden wreckage that they use as furniture. They build things and unmake them only for someone else to take the pieces and build again. It is then that one realizes: the play has been woven with the absurd – characters who grapple with an incomprehensible world, the constant inability to effectively communicate, repetitive behavior that leads to the same results.

The playwright is clearly grappling with ideas of otherness, conflict and alienation within an existential framework. All of which are accentuated by the slow rising of a physical wall between the audience and the players on stage. Nothing they say or do will stop that wall from rising and so every action on stage is meaningless.

In this play the absurd is used as a tool to alienate. The characters highly stylized jokers who are in on the ruse. They speak to each other of staying on script, they constantly ask each other if they are bored, they quip that fun only exists in alienation. The audience is being entertained by senseless, though not depthless, dialogue. And the characters while away the time until their script ends.

These ideas are all exciting to engage with, and it is a production that creates many sorts of important conversations. In theory this should be enough, but as a performance piece it lacks stakes; worse yet, it is not engaging. And the text is self-aware enough to know this about itself. When the characters break the fourth wall and see the many eyes, they comment on those eyes being disengaged. When the characters ask each other if they are bored, it is hard not to sympathize if they are. And, while thematically engaging, the rising wall is only a too constant reminder of how much of the performance is left.

The play is smart and dense, with a sophisticated knowledge of both theater and language. The actors do well by the stylized demands of the production and the director skillfully uses the space to highlight the thematic through-line of the piece. But art can be successful without being satisfying.

En el Ojo de la Aguja plays now through Sunday, September 22nd at The Tank (312 West 36th Street, NYC)

As part of The Theater for the New City’s Dream Up Festival, The Chaos Theory of Now, written and performed by Jennifer Joy Pawlitschek, relates how in life, as well in the world of quantum physics, that small forces and actions can have large consequences later in time. Though done with no major costume changes nor cosmic photography, with just three table and chair setups and simple lighting changes, Pawlitschek manages to convey an understanding of the chaos of matter by presenting varying possible outcomes of her personality.

Proudly espousing her present status as a Catholic lesbian nerd with Midwestern Minnesotan roots, Pawlitschek explores how she might have turned out had not key actualizing events within her own conscience or with formative figures in her life happened differently. The outcomes can be comic like how the Trumpist farm wife is always talking about Armageddon or the coming apocalypse, or tragic like the devastated widow possibly in denial that her husband’s death may have been her fault in an accidental overdose or possible suicide. The major revelation for me compares how two objects can float away from each other until they are poles apart as a metaphor for her separation from her family and the loneliness that accompanies it in order to be true to herself.

The performance includes audio effects and queues that match her actions at varying points, and theme matching music, ranging from new age for the open and close to rock for the hilarious teen activist. While the science speak is performed in intimate lecture fashion, the dramatized conversations are one sided dialogue to an unseen speaker. The disadvantage of a one person show with no costume changes is the differing characters can become a hazy blend where you have to orient, whether this character is a takeoff of a previous character or different. The dialogue pacing can take on a hypnotic rhythm and I found myself drifting a couple times at the two-thirds to three-quarter mark.

But the strings of logic are neatly tied up by the conclusion of the show and the audience walks out of the theater with an alternate perspective of how we all got to where we all are in the first place.

The musical production team of Kyle Reid Hass and Jeremy Swanton may be nascent in the annals of musical theater, but their capabilities as playwrights and composers show promise despite the weaknesses of their first Off-Broadway production of Contact High: A New Musical at Theater 511 on West 54th Street. While the accomplishment of the pair is notable, the messages of drug addiction and school bullying never seem resolved or fully addressed with the seriousness the issues it deserves, due to numerous plot lines and elements making the characters less believable as typical high school students. The play’s intended audience is young adults and the composers most likely want them to identify with the characters.

The story opens with high school paramours Jean Simon, confidently played by Gabriella Marzetta, and Benjamin Crane, played by Swanton, conducting a heroin distribution ring to raise money for Benjamin’s expected tuition if he is accepted into Princeton. While a transaction of $20,000 is made to sound commonplace, the pair seem more at home in a street gangland environment than your typical classroom. These are not timid teenagers. Jean is a heroin addict in crisis who’s father is the gangland boss. Meanwhile the science club has decided to kick out Haley Walter Keys, played by Hass, a gentle giant boy in a tee-shirt and sweats who suffers from a mental disorder where he can become psychotic/psychopathic if he is touched without his permission. This is most likely because he is just not fitting in, despite his intellectual brilliance and the upcoming state science competition. The choice of a disability with violent repercussions could be problematic for any disabled viewer to feel comfortable with, since it supports an inherent bias against disabled people, stigmatizing them as dangerous landmines to be negotiated with rather than just being treated as normal folks with some physical or mental limitations. To top it off, there is intrigue about what happened to Tommy Wheeler, another student, who has disappeared and his whereabouts are unknown.

The friendship between Jean and Haley develops by breaking open a safe, in an implausible MacGyver-like fashion, to avenge Jean’s fouled drug transaction and raise money for Haley’s debt to a toughie, a developing mutual feeling of being outcasts and empathizing with Haley’s condition. The progression from Jean’s addiction to rehabilitation seems elusive and glossed over rather than addressed in any substantial way. Their triumph over being able to touch seems goofy and melodramatic, especially when Haley’s explanation of his disorder specified him being touched without his permission.

The 19 musical numbers are mostly a lighter catchy pop-rock style of performance with the basic choreography that the small stage can allow, along with the sad ballads for Jean’s heroin fixing scenes. The sense of angst ridden teenagers who question their future role in the world is conveyed, ranging from boldly singing “I am the future”, to “who will I be”, to, oddly, “there is no history”, and “maintaining the status quo.” The normal teenage attitude of distrust in authority comes through in the caricatured representation of the school staff and psychotherapist grief counselor, who is hiding a secret. The acted dialogue is dense in verbage, and many times is delivered in staccato fashion, sometimes rushing through the potential emotional impact of the lines. The pace of the plot development is not slow by any standards, but the number of plot strings muddles the focus on bullying and addiction recovery, especially when the ruthless mob boss, Landon Casey, an exaggerated caricature played by E.B. Hinnant takes the stage.

The set has the feel of a youth rec room with posters of the missing student Tommy Wheeler plastered everywhere along with newspaper pages surrounding the 25 foot square stage with six rolling chairs for staging. The music ensemble is visible at stage rear and left. Andrew Garvis’ competent stage lighting design changes from scene to scene and goes dark as cast members rearrange the characters’ movements. There is only one door for a stage entrance, and to make the most use of the small theater, the actors perform in the aisle several times for added spatial dimension.

Hass and Swanton, a noted recent graduate of the NYU Performance Studies Department, together developed Contact High from Hass’s high school screenplay titled The Science Fair. It turned into a workshop production at Theater Row’s Studio Theater as The Science Fair: A Game-Changing New Musical in 2017. This team has been spotlighted for their talent and I expect they will mature with each new production, which I look forward to seeing in the future.

Have you ever wanted to be able to join in with others who were feeling something grand but you just couldn’t bring yourself to get wrapped up in the excitement? Then you know how I felt watching Till, as part of the New York Musical Festival. The production has all the elements required to be a great production: great singing and solid acting, but something did not add up here, and I was unable to emotionally connect with the piece.

Till, brought to us by Leo Schwartz and DC Cathro, tells us the infamous horrific story of Emmett Till, a 14-year-old boy killed in Mississippi during the Jim Crow period. Emmett is depicted as a charismatic young man who was killed by a white man because he whistled at his wife. This tragedy spread like wildfire and made history. It even caused the Emmett Till Civil Rights Bill to be signed into law by President Obama.

There are a few things that hurt the play’s appeal. The representations of the white racists were played by black actors wearing masks and the first time we encounter them in the play, they are caricatures. Tyla Collier laughs like a hyena, which at first is comical but goes on way too long and becomes distracting. This initial buffoonish portrayal makes it hard to see her as a murderous wife later in the piece.

Also, every time the momentum of the play began to pick up speed, a song interrupted the flow of the piece. I wish the actors sang with the same emotional intensity as they did when they were engaged in dialogue. I would start to connect with the story but the music, although gorgeously sung, took me out of the moment and killed any dramatic affectations that were intended.

The 90-minute musical spends too long getting to the main event, so when the climax happens, the audience has already checked out because we’ve long known what was coming. There is a big production number, meant to be an evangelical event at Emmett’s funeral. I understand this is a cultural phenomenon with deep roots in the black community, but it is so joyously sung and danced that it detracts from the severity of what Jim Crow and bigotry justified as acceptable behavior in the south. Again, the musicality undercut the profundity of the piece, which hurt its overall impact. The energy of the last number seemed at odds with the sadness of the situation. This disparity confused me about how I was supposed to feel.

Despite the music’s negative impact, it is sung by stellar vocalists. Judith Franklin brings down the house with her powerhouse ability. Taylor Blackman is wonderful as Emmett Till. He is infectious and steals your heart, making his untimely death more tragic. Dwelvan David is enigmatic as the preacher. His voice hits a sweet spot in your soul. These singers’ voices cut through you and are a delight to listen to.

The audience gave them a standing ovation and if I was complimenting their singing alone, I would have joined in. Sadly, as a cohesive piece of theater, this musical just did not work for me.